One Small Crack
by Blood-On-Glass
Summary: The first man to live to be 150? By the looks of it, Chris Traeger won't come even close. Ann tries not to fall apart.


**AN: This is strange. I've never written a P &R story before. I've had this idea for over a year now, though, and thought I should finally get it typed up and uploaded. **

**Summary: The first man to live to be 150? By the looks of it, Chris Traeger won't come even close. Ann tries not to fall apart.**

 **Pairings: Chris/Ann, Ben/Leslie, April/Andy. I guess Tom and Ron don't get love in this story.**

 **Warnings: I usually like to keep my ratings as close to the actual rating of the show/movie I write about, so that's why this is rated T. I don't know how inappropriate this is actually going to be. It's just sad and depressing because I can't seem to write anything else these days. Maybe I'll write a mindless fluff piece next.**

 **FYI: I know** _ **nothing**_ **about hospitals or illnesses or anything like that, so if anything is inaccurate. . . well that just doesn't surprise me. Feel free to point it out, but I probably won't go back and fix it or anything so it won't really matter. But if you want to prove to me that you know something that I don't about some disease or whatever, feel free to do so.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Parks and Recreation. That credit goes to some guy that is much richer than I am. I do own Brian though. I don't ever describe what he looks like because he's just some character that I needed to add in this, but I feel like he's hot. Because what's better than a hot doctor? Besides maybe a hot cop. There's one that lives right next to me and let me tell you-**

 **Sorry, getting off topic.**

Ann Perkins slowly closed her eyes and sank back into the uncomfortable chairs in the waiting room. Watching the frantic doctors go back and forth made her head spin and she knew if she kept watching them, she would go insane. Instead, she busied herself with the cheap, fake leather that was peeling off the arm of the chair. She picked at it, thinking how ironic it was that she was sitting in the chair, in her nursing scrubs, waiting to hear news from a doctor. She ignored the looks her friends were giving her, not wanting to see the pity in their eyes.

"You know," Ben started awkwardly. "With all of us gone and out of office, someone might be trying to take over the department."

"They can have it," Ron scoffed.

Politics. Ann wanted to tune them out, but she knew they were just trying to busy their minds with a familiar and comfortable topic. Not to mention, she was somewhat appreciative of something to listen to other than that annoying woman over the comm paging doctors or informing janitors of messes; or the distant sound of monitors and machines; or the sound of other people in the waiting room, going through a similar situation she was in.

Her eyes drifted down to her scrubs. She looked at them in disgust. She didn't deserve to be wearing them. She wanted to change, not wanting to be reminded that even as a nurse, she was incapable of helping the person closest to her.

". . .and I said to her, 'look, I can totally see your bra right now, and it's super hot, but I'm not interested. You are not even remotely attractive'."

What the hell was Tom talking about? Ann focused her attention on the man who was apparently talking about a woman he met in the bar last night. Everyone smiled at his story, but the smiles contained a lack of heart and sincerity which actually made this whole situation even more depressing. Everyone was trying to fake smiles, and laughs, but no one could do it. Even Tom, as he talked about girls, wasn't even close to being as enthusiastic as he usually is about the topic.

"So you didn't bang her?" Ben asked. Tom shook his head. Ben scoffed. "That's nothing. I was visiting my cousins in Louisville and we were at this bar. A woman came up and started hitting on my cousin's friend, Randall. Talk about unattractive. Her mustache was more impressive than Ron's. I mean literally-"

Everyone grew quiet as Ben trailed off. He whispered something Ann couldn't quite make out, probably an apology, and then it grew quiet again. Ann wasn't even the one who said the word, and she could practically feel it burn on her tongue.

"Coffee anyone?" Andy and April showed up carrying one of those foam coffee holders each.

Everyone gladly accepted the drink, but Ann didn't have the energy to actually drink from it. Instead, she just held it in her hand and watched the steam seep through the small hole in the lid. She didn't even notice that Andy had taken the seat next to her until his hand was suddenly on her armrest. She looked up in surprise.

"How are you doing?" he whispered, knowing better than to ask that question in front of an audience. They may not still be together, but there was no doubt they knew each other well.

"Fine," she whispered, inwardly wincing at how raw her voice sounded. How long exactly had it been since she had spoken? A while, she figured. She cleared her throat and tried again. "I just wish we would hear something, you know?"

Andy nodded slowly. "Yeah," he whispered, looking straight ahead, sounding distant. She wondered if he had ever been in this position before.

April, who usually glared daggers at Ann every time she even looked at Andy, was being sympathetic. She didn't say anything, even when Andy grabbed Ann's hand in support.

"Ann."

Ann jerked out of her seat when she saw Dr. Brian Rowe approaching her. She felt a bit relieved. Brian was a fantastic doctor; he knew what he was doing. She trusted him.

"Ann, you were right when you told the paramedic what you thought it was," Brian explained to her sympathetically."

Of course she was, which only made it the more frustrating. She should have been able to help him sooner. It was so, painfully obvious. . .

"Did-" Ann cleared her throat-"Did I catch it in time?"

Silence. The dreadful silence. As a nurse, Ann was hardly in this position, but she always heard the doctors talking about it. In fact, Ann had been on call the night a five year-old was brought in and died before he could reach surgery. Brian had been his doctor, and Ann found him later in the break-room with his head in his hands, muttering about procedures and what could have been done differently.

"Ann," Brian began gently. "You need to keep in mind that you aren't a full-time nurse anymore. You only volunteer."

That was interesting way to say, 'Ann, you really screwed up, but it's okay. No one blames you for your mistake'. Ann swallowed thickly. "Is that a no?"

Brian sighed. "It's a maybe. We need to get this fluid out of him in the next twenty-four hours or he won't make it. How long were you in Africa for?"

"Five days," she answered, slowly closing her eyes. She didn't want to be reminded of Africa. If someone falls ill after coming back from Africa, you take them to the hospital as soon as possible. Ann didn't need to be reminded that she didn't do that.

"Malaria is tricky," Brian told her, though they both were aware she already knew. Ann was the nurse for a woman named Makayla Richter who had contracted the horrible disease. Makayla didn't make it through the night because her husband was too late on bringing her in.

Just like Ann.

"However," Brian continued. "It could be worse."

It could be worse. Those were the words that nurses and doctors said when there wasn't really any good news to tell. It was like he forgot that she herself had to use these sort of tricks before as well.

"Thank you, doctor," Leslie said for Ann, placing a hand on her shoulder as she stood as well. "Is there anything else?"

"How long as it been since he started feeling ill?" Brian asked Ann.

"A few days," she admitted softly. "I thought it was the flu. Malaria didn't even cross my mind until it started getting really bad." And by "really bad" she meant she had woken up in the middle of the night to the sounds of her fiance vomiting in the bathroom. She quickly got out of bed and turned on the bathroom light. She gasped when she saw the state Chris was in. He had no color to his face, and he was drenched in sweat, his white t-shirt soaked almost completely through.

"Chris," she had begun, as he flushed the toilet and put his head in his trembling hands. "If this is the flu, I'm getting my Hogwarts letter in the mail tomorrow."

"What else could it be?" asked Chris, leaning against the wall, breathing heavily.

 _What else could it be?_

It wasn't until after Chris said these words, that she decided to look into this a little more. Her carelessness could easily be the cause of her finance's death. She was mortified explaining this to Brian, but he didn't seem to think any less of her. Ann wasn't relieved by her observation at all. She _wanted_ Brian to think less of her; she wanted all of her friends to think less of her. Ann didn't only want their criticism, but she _needed_ it. After all, people can early learn from their actions if they face the consequences of what they do. If a child draws on their bedroom wall with a permanent marker, they aren't going to learn it was wrong if their parents are too gentle and tell them not to worry about it.

Not that she was comparing Chris Traeger dying to a simple paint fee.

"Ann," Brian began softly. "There's nothing more you can do for him now. I suggest you get some food or some rest. You've done everything-"

"But I didn't do everything I could!" Ann yelled loudly, her voice cracking from volume and emotion. She felt her face flush, and her eyes began to burn. The lights in the room became blurry, but she would not let herself cry in the middle of a hospital waiting room. Her friends were all looking at her, along with everyone else who witnessed her outburst. She felt Leslie's hand on her shoulder. Her blonde friend whispered something to her, but she had no idea what it was. She was too busy on trying not to have a full-frontal meltdown in front of such a large audience. Or any audience at all.

"Ann you can't blame yourself." Everyone turned to Ron Swanson with surprise. He of all people was trying to comfort Ann? Then again, Ann had seen his softer side before. "These things happen. You and Chris both had taken the medication to prevent Malaria and it takes a while for the disease to even show up in the first place. I may not be a doctor, but the way I see it, you had no reason to think it was Malaria."

Tom spoke before Ann had a chance. "Besides, I saw Chris the day he first started getting sick. He came to the department and it really looked like the flu."

"Not to mention he's always talking about how he's a flu magnet," Ron added. "And he's not wrong."

Ben laughed. "Yeah, I've known Chris longer than any of you, and I can say he catches the flu all of the time. And he catches it _hard_. I always thought he was just being pathetic when he would act so scared around sick people, but then I understood why."

The next person who tried their hand at comfort was the biggest surprise to them all: April. It appeared as though she was trying to look bored, but Ann could see through her indifferent-intern facade, and she was sure everyone else could, too. "I was in the hospital with that stupid flu the same time Chris was. I saw him the other day, too. He looked like crap, but not much worse than he had at the hospital."

"Ann, you and I both know that Malaria is hard to diagnose. It's not until the swelling starts that it really becomes obvious, and that doesn't happen right away. I would have probably done the exact same thing you did." Brian put his hand on her shoulder. "Really, you can't beat yourself. Not over this one."

Ann wasn't sure what gave her the strength to ask Brian this next question. Maybe it was all of the comfort and support from her friends. But even she surprised herself by asking: "What is the actual chance Chris will pull through from this?"

The room was quiet again. Ann was reminded of how it was sitting in the waiting room, waiting for news. Only this time, no one dared trying to distract themselves. The answer Brian gave them might determine whether or not they should expect to ever see Chris at the office again, or hear him talk about how important it was to jog everyday and eat vegetables. As Brian hesitated, she tried to imagine what her life would be like without Chris. Or how any of her friends would feel.

She didn't have much time to think about it. "Well," Brian began slowly. "At this point it's difficult to say," That was never good to hear. "As I told you, he's got a lot of fluid built up, especially in his lungs. He's started to cough it up but we know we'll need to drain most of it ourselves. It's a tricky procedure. Not to mention, he's experiencing severe swelling and a very high fever. We're talking about 104 high."

Ann felt like she was going to fall to the floor. She must have looked like it to, because Leslie's grip became tighter, and she had a worried expression on her face. "So," Leslie began. "Answer the question." Ann knew Leslie was only pressing Brian because she herself was too scared to do it. _But they all needed to know._

"It's not looking great," Brian admitted. "If things don't start looking up in the next 24 hours, we'll lose him like I said. He very well could die."

There was that word: _die._ Ann wasn't sure how she felt about it. In fact, she had spent her entire life completely ignoring the idea of death. Working in the hospital, she was always around death, and pushed away the curiosity that would creep into her mind every time a hear monitor would flat-line. She wasn't sure if she believed in heaven, or the afterlife, or reincarnation. She figured now would be the time to figure that kind of thing out. Did Chris believe in that stuff? Ann couldn't believe she didn't even know. Maybe at this point though, Chris was welcoming death. After all, Malaria is a painful and exhausting experience. Maybe he's in there right now thinking. . . _I'm ready._

Or maybe he was thinking about her. For all Ann knew, he was in there telling himself he can't give up because he has a wedding in two months that he has to stay on Earth for. Maybe he's convincing himself that one day he and Ann are going to have beautiful children that will be health freaks and will love to run and laugh. Chris was always such an optimistic person, that she could actually feel the pain in her chest as she thought about him being so tired and drawn that he just gives up. Chris is the least likely of them all to give up on anything, so if this disease. . . this very _stupid_ disease kills him, it will be because it was just _that bad,_ and there really wasn't anything anyone could do about it.

Leslie ran a hand through Ann's hair. She said something to Brian, but Ann wasn't paying attention. Whatever it was, Brian was leaving now, probably getting back to her dying fiance. Leslie's fingers were still in her hair, the act so motherly that it only made her want to cry more. She knew everyone was staring at her, but she ignored the feeling of their eyes on the back of her head. They wanted her to say _something_ she could tell, but she had no idea where she would even begin. Either that, or they all were waiting for her to finally cry and let her emotions go free. That would probably be the best thing for her to do, as it was unhealthy to keep everything bottled inside, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. She suppressed the tears and drew in a shaky breath, the first sound from her in a while. The noise only caused her friends to look at her more expectantly.

"Ann, you should probably sit down," Ben said cautiously, standing on her other side from Leslie. "Seriously, you look like you're about to fall down."

Maybe that was why everyone was staring at her. They were expecting her to actually collapse from her emotions. "No, I-" she cleared her throat as the words sounded rough-"I just need to go to the bathroom."

Everyone knew she didn't actually have to _use_ it, she could see it in their faces, but they all just nodded casually. Leslie, however, wasn't going to let her off that easy.

"I'll go with you."

"No," Ann said, shaking her head. "It's fine."

Leslie turned serious. "Ann, honey, I don't think you should be alone right now."

Ann hesitated, but knew that Leslie would crawl under the stall if that's what it took, so she nodded and the two headed off into the bathroom.

She barely got through the door before the tears were rolling down her face and she was letting out choked sobs. She put her palms on the bathroom counter by the sinks and leaned forward. She stopped holding back and let herself cry like she should have done ages ago.

Leslie turned on the faucet and ran a paper towel through the water. As she was crying, she felt Leslie put the damp, cheap paper up to her face, wiping away the tears. The warm water was comforting and went well with the comfort the rest of her body was feeling at Leslie's tenderness.

She still cried hard, though.

"I-I," Ann tried to begin to speak, feeling as though Leslie would wanting something from her other than sobs, but her best friend shook her head.

"Ann, you don't need to say anything," she whispered, going back to stroking her hair. "I know, really I do."

Ann slowly turned around away from the sink and mirrors and faced Leslie. Her friend didn't hesitate to pull her into her arms. Ann wrapped herself around Leslie, sobbing on her shoulder, turning Leslie's blue blouse into a mess from makeup, tears, and snot. Leslie didn't seem to mind in the slightest, and rubbed her back, whispering to could barely hear her over the sound of her loud sobs.

Ann wasn't sure how long it went on for, but they were probably in the bathroom for a good ten minutes. She was starting to get a headache from all the crying, and the exhaustion seemed to be finally catching up to her. Just as her sobs were starting to die down, April came into the bathroom.

"The guys sent me in here to check on you two," she explained casually, though she did draw in Ann's appearance with what could actually be sympathy of all things. Ann wondered if this whole thing made her look her relationship with Andy differently. And the same thing with Leslie and Ben. She knew she sure as hell would never take the relationship she had with Chris for granted.

She might never get the chance to.

Ann let out another sob and Leslie pulled her back into her arms. "She's uh. . ." Leslie was at a loss for words, probably for the first time in her life, and looked at April.

"It's cool," the young girl said shrugging. "I think I get the picture." She turned to leave, but stopped. She just stood there for a few seconds before turning to the sink and getting another wet paper towel. She handed it to Ann casually. "Makeup burns like hell when you cry. . . not that I would know." With that, she finally did exit the bathroom.

"That was. . . unusual," Leslie said.

Ann let out a soft, breathy laugh. "Yeah. Now I'm scared."

"You're going to wake up with a fork in your neck, I just know it."

Ann pulled away from Leslie, feeling drowsy and drained. "Thank you, Leslie. That was so much better than me sitting in here alone inside a stall on the toilet crying softly into toilet paper."

Leslie smiled sadly. "Ann, you know you don't have to think me. You would do the exact same thing if it were Ben in there. We all love you and we love Chris, so don't think for a second that you need to thank us."

Ann nodded. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

Ann got cleaned up, and took another few minutes in the bathroom to compose herself. She finally built up the strength to leave the bathroom. As she entered the waiting room she was expecting to see everyone staring at her like she was an exhibit at a museum, but thankfully everyone minded their own business. She wasn't sure if they all knew that's what she wanted or if April talked to them. She took her seat back beside Andy and put her head in her hands, leaning forward. An odd sound caused her to look up and across the seats her friends were in. The noise was coming from Ben who was pressing his tongue against the roof of his mouth, making a sound that resembled water dripping in a bathtub. He stared straight ahead as he did it, not looking as though he even knew he was making the noise.

"Nervous habit," Leslie explained to her quietly. "It's how I know he's _really_ anxious about something."

Ann nodded, thinking about the relationship Ben had with Chris. They had been working together for a long time from what she's been told, and she wondered how close they became over the years. For all Ann knew, Chris being in the hospital could be like having a cousin in the hospital for Ben. Or maybe even a brother. Ann stood up and took the vacant seat beside him, ignoring the curious stares she was getting. He didn't seem to even notice she had moved beside him because when she put her hand on his shoulder, he jumped a bit and looked over at her.

"Sorry, you startled me," he said with a smile. His voice was strong, almost as though they were outside waiting for a bus, not inside a hospital waiting to find out whether or not a good friend was going to die. Ann had no idea how he did it. It made her wonder about all of those times he had been " _really_ anxious" as Leslie had said.

"Sorry," she apologized. "I was just wondering if you were doing okay over here."

"I was doing that weird tongue thing again, wasn't I?" Ann didn't have time to tell him that it was okay, that everyone did weird things when they were nervous, before he continued. "Sorry. It drives Leslie _crazy_ sometimes. But enough about me, how are _you_ doing, Ann?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "It's-"

"Weird?" Ann nodded. Ben looked forward, avoiding her eyes. "I hear you." Those three words held more emotion than Ann had ever heard come from him in the entire time she knew him.

"Chris would probably be pissed if he knew that we were all upset over him," she pointed out with a smile.

Ben laughed and looked back at her. "Yeah he would. Damn his optimism is crazy sometimes. If it were me in there, right now he would be telling Leslie to think positively and that everything would be okay. And strangely enough, because it came from him, it would be. I think he's living proof that if you give, the universe will give back to you. I never believed in karma until I met Chris."

Ann pondered this. If karma was real, what did Chris do in order to deserve this? Or maybe it was something she did. Maybe there was a homeless man she passed without even giving a second glance to. She did that a lot, come to think of it. Chris never did. He always gave everyone he saw struggling a few dollars at least before telling them that they simply hit a bump in their road and everything would eventually get better for them. He was always friendly to strangers. He once told her that the people behind registers probably received so much crap in their days that the least he could do was try to make things a little better for them. If a restaurant messed up his order, he never brought it back. He always said something like, "It's better this way, anyway."

"I remember when all of us guys had food poisoning," Ben said, pulling Ann out of her thoughts. "It hit all of us hard, but probably Chris the hardest." Ann wasn't sure where he was going with this.

"Don't speak of that again," Ron told him, giving him a warning look. "I was never able to look at my toilet the same way again."

Tom shuddered. "Ew, Ron. No one here want's to hear about this."

"You have no right to way in on this," Ron snapped. "Especially since you should have gotten it, too."

Tom shrugged. "Eating like a snob comes in handy sometimes. I knew there was something weird about those calzones. I have a sixth sense for these kinds of things."

Ben looked at him. "Yeah, you definitely don't. You were just too lazy to pour the sauce on yourself so you didn't even bother to touch them."

Ann laughed at their bickering. It was genuine, too. Not like before when she was laughing at Andy who had spilled water on his pants and made a joke about wetting himself. But hearing Ron, Tom, and Ben go at it was just like being at the Parks Department as though nothing was wrong in the world.

The laughing among the small group of friends died down as Brian approached them, holding a clipboard. They all stared at him in silence.

"Man, it's never good news when people stop laughing and everything goes quiet when you enter the room," Brian said. "What embarrassing story did you tell them about me, Ann?"

Everyone just looked at him, but not Ann. Ann smiled. She knew what it meant when Brian started joking with family members of patients. "He's going to be okay?" she asked, just for clarification.

Brian nodded. "Lucky guy. A certain guy upstairs must be on his side. Or maybe yours. Whichever way you want to look at it, I guess." Brian could barely get the words out before everyone was out of their seats hugging each other. Ben and Leslie kissed, probably exhausted with the very idea of what it would be like if _they_ lost each other. Tom and Ben high-fived and Ron was just nodding as though he knew all along Chris would pull through. Ann saw through the facade, though. April had her signature smirk and Andy-being Andy-danced. Leslie pulled Ann into a big hug.

"He did it, Ann!" she exclaimed. "Your man pulled through."

Ann nodded and pulled away from Leslie and faced Brian. "When can I see him."

"Well. . . usually I would advise that the patient waits a little while before receiving visitors, but for you, Ann, I think we can make an exception." He gestured for her to come with him.

"I'll be right back," Ann promised everyone. "I-"

Everyone cut her off and told her to shut up and go see Chris. She was happy to oblige.

As she followed Brian, she felt the smile slowly leave her face as they came closer to the room Chris was in. She couldn't explain why, but she felt nervous about seeing her fiance. Maybe it was the idea of seeing him hooked up to machines, looking weak and tired. She saw him when he was in the hospital with the flu, but that was different. He didn't almost die from that after all (despite what he thought at the time) and she was unprepared to see him in such a state. They stopped at the door of the room and Brian bid her farewell and left, leaving her alone. She put her hand on the door and hesitated. She had no idea what to expect. But Chris was _in there_ , probably wanting to see her. He didn't deserve to think he was alone in this; he needed to know she was there for him, and always would be.

She opened the door.

And there Chris was. _Her_ Chris. He was in a bed with a sheet draped over him. His hair was sticking to his forehead, looking much less neat than usual and he was still a bit pale, _but it was him!_ A smile spread across her face, and she didn't think something had ever felt so good in her life. She put a hand over her mouth and tears rolled down her face. A sob escaped her, one that was full of so much relief. She released a breath and sent a silent 'thank you' to whoever might be listening. He was okay. He looked a little worse for wear, but that was something she could handle.

Then his eyes were opening. He was looking at her. Her hand moved from her mouth, down to her chest wear a rose necklace was resting. He had given it to her for her birthday just two days before he had begun to fall ill. She gripped it in her hand as she stared at him. Another tear was rolling down her face but she didn't care. She wanted to say _something,_ but no words came to her. What could you say to a person you loved that almost died. I almost lost you? Thank God you pulled through? Don't ever to that to me again? Or maybe just. . . _I love you so much._ He beat her to it, though. His voice was raspy, probably from all of the coughing he had been doing lately, but it was still his voice. And what he said. . . it was so familiar, like they could forget about where they were and why. It was music to her ears.

"Ann Perkins."


End file.
